


Wandering Souls

by Nanagrb



Series: Klaroline AU Week 2017 [1]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Klaroline, Klaroline AU Week, Mentions of Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 10:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12455992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanagrb/pseuds/Nanagrb
Summary: When Caroline Forbes, 21st century woman, finds herself transported back into time by accident, in the violent Highlands no less, the situation there is tumultuous. There she meets a strange man that evokes feelings in her she shouldn't have because she's married already.(Don't need to know Outlander)





	1. The Eve of.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr (username nanaswhispers) as my contribution for Klarolineauweek's first day: Crossovers and Fusion.
> 
> This doesn't follow the Outlander canon, it's just a fusion of both worlds.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

« Eerie, isn’t it ? » a distinctly male voice abruptly brought her out of her contemplation.

Caroline threw a quick glance towards the man walking up to her, then looked back down, from her perch on the balcony, at the dancing, joyous pairs moving through the castle’s Great Room, the fires in the various hearths scattered in all the corners of the space to combat the wet cold winter seemingly never ending here in the Highlands, the unfamiliar smells of food and beverages that wouldn’t even be remembered centuries from now, the swirls of the tent-like skirts women were forced to wear below the excruciating tightness of their corsets, and the swirls of the kilts around the men’s knees proudly displaying the loyalty to their clan, their allegiance to their Laird.

And, she supposed, it really was eerie. Although, she guessed the man now standing next to her didn’t find it so for the same reasons she did. At least not from her perspective as a 26 years old woman from the 21st century that suddenly traveled through time and landed in the 18th century, right in the middle of Scotland.

So, she only nodded, not willing to show or say to much.

Even if she hadn't quickly glanced back when he interrupted her musings, his voice would have betrayed his identity immediately. Such a raspy, smooth, velvet was recognizable amongst thousands, but, it was his accent, so different from everyone else’s around here that truly differentiated him from the other people in Castle Leoch.

She had heard he was a traveler, and had been a warrior for some Lord in another land some time ago, his prowess with a sword was rumored to be extraordinary. _(Clearly_ , _only nice terms to say sell-sword, she scoffed, internally.)_

She supposed he had his reasons as to why he divulged no details about his past. _(She couldn't really hold that against him since she hadn't really been that forthcoming herself…)_

Perhaps he had done things that would take away the good grace the Mackenzies had towards him?

Maybe it was shame that ate him up from the inside? _(Although Klaus didn't strike her as one that would care about such unprofitable and unusable emotions…)_

Or, most probably, his past was too painful, still too raw to share… she understood that.

Those were different times, where people didn’t always have the luxury of circumstances or even the rights to choose a path for themselves. Sometimes, to _survive_ , one must do things they didn’t like. Things they wished to never remember again.

Objectively, she had known in a vague sort of way, that all those were indisputable facts. That free will and freedom were what dreams were made off. However she had never truly comprehended it, grasped the whole spectrum of that fact, understood how it affected people to be choice-less, powerless, voice-less, not until mere months ago. Now, she did. _Unfortunately._

Caroline looked back at him again. Observed him standing quite rigidly, especially compared to his usual falsely laid-back attitude. Watched as he took notice of every nook, cranny, and corner present in the Great Room, never letting down his guard. His already paranoid streak seemingly accrued by the tension right before the battle that will take place only hours from now.

When she met him initially, his aura of violence and aloofness perturbed her. Frustrated her. Unbalanced her. She wasn't equipped to deal with men who dealt everyday with violence and non-ending wars, as real individuals, with their own set of traumas and real experiences. People who lived through the consequences of spilled blood. They were just a story, something passed almost as anecdotes when political machinations and tales of bloody battlefields were taught in class as more important than the measly life of a no-name Scot, until they stood in front of her, threatening her, thinking she was a spy for the English that persecuted them.

Now, with hindsight and experience on her mind, she guessed his attitude had its benefits. Even though he was capable of angering her like no one before in her life _(both time frames included)_ , he was also the one that protected her like nobody ever did before, even at his own expense.

She would remember until her last breaths those wretched moments when he took a hit, or a bullet in her stead. When he defended her honor by sullying his. When he sacrificed his comfort so that she could feel better. And he did it without ever bragging, which was actually quite surprising and commendable for someone with such a propensity for teasing and showing off.

Klaus had sometimes been such an antagonistic bastard during her three months in this time that she in some stances _(after an arduous battle with herself)_ could force her mind to forget how handsome and charming he was. Yet, here, standing next to her, with an indescribable expression stretched on his fair and strong features, her breath was taken away.

The warmth exuding from his arm to hers was much more effective than the fires in chasing away the chill from her bones, she noted absently.

This time, when his voice interrupted her from her musings, _about how hot he was,_ she was grateful. She couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about men she didn’t plan on seeing for much longer. She had to get back to Tyler. Her, maybe not as sweet nor devoted as she would like, husband of two years, waiting for her, generations away. So she only focused on his words and not on the divine mouth uttering them.

“I find it quite eerie to see such joy on their faces. They know that the dawn will bring nothing good, that most of them could be dead come sundown. They know that Lockwood and his brutish British goons are better funded, better equipped, and have higher numbers. And yet, here are those Highlanders, dancing, laughing, drinking and fucking… Is that the most stupid or most intelligent thing on this world, I wonder?”

She pondered his question a few moments. Never truly finding a concrete answer but still giving away her piece of mind.

“I don’t really know, to be perfectly honest with you… It is stupid. They are drinking themselves to a stupor they won’t really exit out of even on the battlefield; they are using all the energy they could save for the fight by fucking women they wouldn’t even acknowledge any other day; they are burning up every resource they have that could feed their people in the coming months…”

_(She hushed the words “if survival is theirs” for both their sakes.)_

“And yet, there is something undeniably awe-inspiring and truly…beautiful, seeing them like this, focusing only on the present time, not worrying about the events of the morrow, enjoying everything about _living_ at least one last night… One can only envy such lust for life.”

Klaus looked at her in silence, contemplating her (and her words), a small smile etched on his sinful lips, as if he was amused by the rhetoric of her answer, or as if he was pleased she shared her mind so openly with him after weeks of avoiding real conversations with him, instead giving back only defensive, short and concise words.

They stood side to side, in silence for a long while, pondering the events to come, the forced joy and drunkenness being displayed in front of their eyes, as if a scene from a historical action movie. Appreciating each other's warmth, knowing fully well it may be the last time they ever could. Quietly, secretly, throwing quick glances that when caught would case an embarrassed smile to bloom on their otherwise stony faces.

As per usual, it was Klaus that breached through the wall of silence between them.

“ _I,_ am no Scot, my fair lady, and I do not plan on giving away the fight before it has even begun. I intend to broaden significantly my list of slain English bastards. Therefore, I must bid you a good night and take leave to retire to my own chambers. _(Where you are always welcome if you so wish)_ ”

He smirked a little, by habit, but the usual heat and innuendo were not present this time.

“As my people say  _Wake early if you want another man’s life or land. No lamb for the lazy wolf. No battles won in bed…_ If I come back from the battlefield tomorrow, it will be my pleasure to see those beautiful eyes again my lady Caroline. If not, it was my greatest pleasure to have gazed upon such beauty. May your journey be easy and prosperous.”

Watching his form slowly inserting itself into the crowd made of rowdy highlanders, Caroline hoped with everything she had in her that those parting words would be useless and that his famed prowess with a sword was as true as it was told to be.

* * *

Caroline went to bed shortly after. But sleep wasn’t destined for her.

His parting words resonated in her. Ringed something distant in her mind. A memory she couldn't quite grasp, of a knowledge she felt even into her bones was important. Something that would help her unravel the mystery that was Klaus.

Well, the saying of “ _his people”_ did that. The others, the last, more personal ones, she didn't want to think about. ( _She failed. It may or may not have provoked tingling, fire and constricting of the heart._ _Caroline wouldn't even admit it under duress._ )

She had spent the entire night fretting over all the possibilities the morrow would bring. Contemplated each person’s probability to die on that clearing. Admonished herself for even wishing that some would make it back.

She knew the Scots would lose. She knew it was the beginning of the end for the Highland culture and way of life. She knew that in the times to come, even speaking one’s mother tongue could get yours to be separated from the rest of your mouth. She knew it was the landmark for oppression.

She had gone to fucking Scotland, visited and observed every ruin, studied every book and stood upon Craigh Na Dun, because her entire career as an anthropologist would depend on how she started it, would depend on her thesis about the history and culture of these lands. The way people had lived and developed in a region not known for its welcoming nature.

And yet, she still hoped against hope.

So, she mourned for all the lives that would be lost. She cried for all the lives that wouldn’t be, but will live under torture and agony. She wept for all the women left behind waiting for any news that their loved ones survived, for the children that will become orphans in the coming hours.

Just before dawn and its daunting sun rays came, she heard the stirring of horses led to the gates of the castle. The bustle of men hurrying for armors, swords, food.

Caroline stood up, engulfed herself into her giant woolen shawl looking for every scrap of warmth and comfort she could find, and went hesitatingly to the small window in her room. Watched the heaviness slowly etch itself into each pair of shoulders. Observed them trying to joke and laugh as they usually would no matter the context, but without their hearts in it. As if they knew, that this time it would be something else entirely.

Her eyes strayed by themselves on the imposing figure Klaus presented, standing stoically against the archway, waiting for the signal to go. She felt his eyes rest on her too, and without thinking, her hand rose, and he nodded instead.

She watched, paradoxically unaware and simultaneously much too cognizant of the time trickling by. The final moments coming too fast, but the preparations for it endless.

“May we meet again” she whispered, almost unknowingly, as she watched them leave.

* * *

Seconds, minutes hours meshed together, passed away without anyone noticing. Time stretched itself into a continuous agony of  _not knowing_ . The haze of waiting seemed unending.

And yet, when the main door of the castle caved under the might of His Majesty's troops, every child, woman, elder that had been huddled together in the Great Room as they waited, jumped as if broken out of a short nap.

Screams and wails, of despair and realization that  _they had lost_ , breaking into a symphony of pain and misery.

Their people were doomed. Their families broken. Their loved ones most probably lying amidst bowels, mud and piss, their blood fertilizing the soil they had fought for until their last breaths.

Surrounded by the cacophony of cries, grunts and orders to knee in front of His Majesty's power, Caroline stood rigid, devoid of any expression, numb.

Some would perhaps say she didn't feel affected by the outcome of the battle, that these weren't  _her people_ , that she had only been an unsolicited guest in this time and in this clan.  Others would simply rationalize that her forehand knowledge of the loss had prepared her sufficiently to not break in front of the menacing soldiers. 

However, Caroline knew that neither of these options were right.

She wasn't catatonic, but her mind had stopped. The blow of the truth too hard, to powerful to digest immediately. She would do what she did best in situations where everyone succumbed. She would hold the ship and bear stoically every hit, up until the moment when she would relax and everything would just engulf her. It was okay, she would handle it when the time comes, as she always did.

For now, she had to be strong.

Especially since the man bearing the same name and features her husband had centuries from now, sauntered proud as a peacock in the Great Room. Laughing at the misery etched onto the faces of every Scot present. Enjoying the defeat creeping into their eyes. Thrilled to see the proud people that defied him at every turn kneel weakly in front of his power.

Caroline would not kneel. So he sent two of his apes at her.

* * *

 

One soldier of his Majesty dead, lying in a pool of his own blood at her feet, the other holding his side while grabbing her hair at the same time, holding her in place, she watched as Theodore Lockwood, the King's most infamous Lieutenant, her husband's ancestor, and doppelganger, walked proudly towards her.

She glowered at the man that tried to rape her, that tortured her, that gave her the status of criminal.

He came to her, as closely as possible, smirked as he towered over her now that she was kneeling against her will at his feet, and replaced the hand in her hair with his own mighty grip.

Her attention went for a small moment to the man standing behind her, and the knife she had used to kill his compatriot moments away that he now pushed relentlessly against her spine. Dumb rookie mistake Caroline.

Suddenly, she felt her head move under the force of his pull, her hair being torn out of her scalp. She felt him rubbing his groin on her entire face, particularly her mouth, while holding her still.

While Tyler's main attribute and reason as to why they had tried so hard for so long to make it work, was his anatomy and their incredible alchemy in bed, the mere thought of being in contact with her husband's cock elder twin awoke in her a repulsion she didn't even know she could feel.

And the smells certainly did not help: his putrid penis, the piss he didn't wipe away, and the aromas of death and blood from the field hit her all at once. The repulsion she felt needed a physical outlet. She couldn't stop the gag in her throat, and managed barely to contain the vomit that wanted to get out of her lips.

He laughed at her struggling and as he heard the present people objecting but not nearly loud enough to count as worthy protestation. Still shaken with their grief and pain and helplessness, they couldn't put up a real fight.

He enjoyed seeing mothers shielding the eyes of the young and elders being drawn to tears as they witnessed the glorious spectacle he gave them. 

He looked back down at her, obviously thrilled and satisfied with his stage. She felt him get even harder against her lips. Her stomach went up to her throat again.

“If memory serves me well, and trust me, I never forget any slight, you had previously sworn that you would never kneel to, I quote, “a scumbag” like me… Hmm, I wonder what you are doing right now? Not that proud anymore, Miss Forbes, are we?”

She only glared. Her lips remained stubbornly sealed, she would not give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait, nor would she give him the opportunity to shove that gross bulge in her mouth… even if the perspective of biting that particular appendage to blood was thrilling.

His victorious grin changed to a glower as her eyes remained without tears and ever challenging.

“Don't expect your protector to come help save the day as usual either, I saw him lying motionless surrounded by a pile of shit next to another one of your little band of criminals. I must admit, it was quite the pleasuring sight, quite arousing too, pity I had to come here so fast, I would have enjoyed tremendously finally fucking that dirty asshole that deserved much needed punishment, defiling his body and showing that even in death _I_ could make him suffer... Mmmh, quite the waste really.defiling his body, showing that even in death I could make him suffer. I'm only sorry it wasn't me that ended his miserable worthless life.” he taunted.

Anger shone in her eyes even amidst the pain. Disgust written plainly on her features.

And as she felt herself succumb a little to despair and pain as it hit her in the chest, for reasons she had never truly admitted to her herself until then, she forced herself in a state of unbending steel. One of coldness reining in the darkness growing at the prospect of never seeing Klaus again. She could  _not_ afford to lose her composure and resistance right now. Otherwise he would achieve his goal of putting her down.

It angered him, clearly.

She felt him distance his breeches covered cock away from her face, and just as she exhaled, glad to be out of contact with that thing, with the tight grip he had on her hair, he abruptly threw her down to the worn, gray, dirty stone of the ground. 

The knife of the unaware soldier lacerated her deeply into her left side. Pain erupted in her body at once. Her blood ran profusely from her forehead where her skull hit the floor with force, forming around her head a halo of red.

Still, even battered and bloody, Caroline refused to let him win. So she grasped every ounce of force present in her and slowly lifted herself up on her hands, then knees, and lastly feet. She pressed a hand on her wound, trying to slow the flow of blood oozing out of her chest.

During the entire, without a doubt long process of her getting to her feet, filled with moans and grunts of pain, he watched as one might study sadistically a weaker animal slowly get devoured by a mightier predator.

In that exact moment, as she saw the gleeful triumph he regarded her with, Caroline swore she would kill him. Whatever she had to do to reach her goal, she would. She promised it to herself.

However much time she had to stay in this timeline in order to rid the world of scum like him, she would spend it, without even a consideration to the man with the same voice, the same face and the same initials as him waiting for her. 

She would kill. She would avenge all the people that suffered or died because of him. She would kill him for Klaus, so that his death wouldn't be vain.

She would end his life just as he ended every possible future she could have had with him, every opportunity that would never happen where she would have finally come to realize how much Klaus meant. She would end him because he ended her.

And he will suffer, that she swore.

  



	2. Fort William

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline wakes up in an overcrowded prison cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long delay for this new chapter, life happened! This was supposed to just be a far-off continuation of the first chapter when I originally planned for it during KAUWEEK, but it took a life of its own, so there will be at least one more chapter to end the story!
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading it!

The arrival at Fort William was not without pain. The deep anguish of knowing they were all dead.  _Him too._ The sorrow of imagining their blood dripping like the usual rain of the Highlands on the blades of grass and soil they fought to their deaths for. 

Caroline had been shoved violently on a plow that had been used until then to produce wheat in the yards of the castle, and feed the people that lived in it. _People that were no longer._

Her injury made her head delirious just as it left her body a broken and heaving mass.

The journey to the prison was a haze where cries, lamentations, foul odors and an endless gray sky meshed together in her mind.

She woke up an indeterminable amount of time later, still woozy and with pain in every single atom making her.

She allowed herself a few moments (or maybe more than just a few) to take in what just happened, at least on a rational level, and cry tears she hid from the other bodies overcrowding the prison cell they have been shoved in.

Some of them were just sitting there with foggy eyes and heavy limbs, numb from shock and pain.

Some were heaving dry, bellies already emptied on the ground, trying to expel the emotional agony out through physical pain.

Some were quivering messes, overtaken by gut wrenching, harrowing sobs.

Some were having panic attacks, the shortage of oxygen, the lack of rational thoughts and the uncontrolled movements were all clear signs if you knew how to read them, and her own unfortunate experience with them made her an unwilling expert.

Still, she forced herself to gather her wit back. Now wasn't the time to succumb.  _When she got out,_ she told herself, and she will, for she had sworn a death, but not  _now_ . Now she couldn't focus on anything else but getting out.  _(If she kills him in the meantime, only bonus points!)_

The pain in her back and side enticed her to examine the extend of the injuries she suffered.

Her head felt heavy and not as clear as usual. So, concussion most probably. ( _That bastard!_ )

Her knees were bruised, certainly caused by the loving care of the soldier she did not kill.

What worried her the most was the deep slice that extended from just under her shoulder blade to her ribs. It was still bleeding even if the edges were starting to scab (how much time  _did she_ spend unconscious exactly?), and judging by not only the depth but also the width of the cut, it would probably keep on oozing for quite the time. At this point healing was more of a utopia than a plausible outcome.

Plus the sanitary condition certainly wouldn't help her heal: people were pressed together, there was a shortage of fresh air, body fluids and excrements could be seen every few feet, and rats were using them as a playground.

Caroline gagged. Uggggh, she missed the 21 st century really bad right now.

The blood loss would soon make her weak and sleepy, and with her concussion, sleep could mean death.

Fuck! If she didn't hurry to get the fuck out of there, she will either die from blood loss of infection. She was so not excited by those prospects.

She needed to get out. Pronto. For that, she needed information: how long they've been here and how much time it took to travel, the guards rotations if there had been any since their arrival, etc…

A quick perusal of the room didn't give her much hope that she'll get the intel she needed, but, still, she needed to try. So, she turned her head a little to the side, saw one of the young servant girls that from time to time came to assist her at Castle Leoch, her weak blonde hair, usually tied tightly on the back of her neck and hidden by her white hat thingy, was disheveled and some bald patches could be seen.

Her neck was bruised, the shape of a hand distinctly purple and blue on her white throat.

Her clothes were torn and in shambles.

Her legs bent and supporting her entire (trembling) body because she couldn't sit.

Caroline would have cried for her had she been able to at the moment. Her general state clearly indicated rape, even centuries apart all the signs were the same. Usually, she would have been assaulted already with images and sounds drawn from her memory of the _loving_ care Damon put her through, but she not only was preoccupied by more pressing matters, she also forced herself to numb her emotions down, remain clinical until she got out of this fucking place. 

She forced herself to remember the poor girl's name, and after an embarrassingly long moment she recalled it.

“Fiona?”

Hadn't the  _lass_ been already out of her mind by fear and trauma, and had it been different circumstances, Caroline would have been gentler, maybe she would have even hugged her (if she herself had been able to move of course). As it is, the arms already around herself tightening their grip as if it would save her from further harm, the tears coursing down her cheeks and the frantic movements of her frightened eyes made Caroline feel guilty for startling her and jostling her after what she went through. She knew what that felt like: the loss of power, the vulnerability, the pain, and worse of all the shame. She didn't want to scare her, nor demand anything of her, Fiona already suffered enough. But, she didn't have a choice. Not if she wanted her revenge, not if she wanted to live. 

So, after what she hoped was a soft and reassuring smile she couldn't guarantee the poor girl even registered, she addressed her.

“Fiona, may I ask if you know how much time we have spent at the prison?”

Her answer was a choked sob and pained whine that tore a little bit more into Caroline's already beaten heart. Still, she gathered her resolved and persisted in the endeavor.

“Fiona, please.”

But it was useless, the young woman was barely cognizant, who knew if she even was aware of what was happening around her and who was there.

As she was just about to reiterate her attempt, even if it would prove to be unsuccessful and she had to switch to another prisoner, the door of the corridor leading to the common cell rattled with the sound of keys. A few moments after, three guards, wearing the red coats symbolic of the Majesty's garrisons, approached the iron door that contained them.

“Move you Scottish shites!” one of them shouted at the same time he shoved the elderly amassed just behind the door when he swung it open forcefully. 

One of his companions passed before him, clearing the passage by pushing and kicking away the already squished prisoners. He made his way towards the section where she was and she understood at that moment Lockwood had summoned her for one of his games he loved to play. Physical or emotional, the method didn't matter to him, only his personal joy at toying with his victims. As long as they suffered, she guessed.

“Miss Forbes. Stand.” the soldier-guard leered disdainfully at her, the way one would look at the lowest of the low.

She did. But it was hard. Her bruised kneecaps protested the strain, dizziness took hold and she could feel how her movements tore up even more her wound.

He grabbed her just as she found a semblance of equilibrium. Her feet almost dragged behind her because of the pace he took.

The steps of the stone staircase were the worst. She had summoned every bit of dignity she had to not appear as weak and rattled as she was, but the damp, slippery and too high steps made it a hard task. Her feet kept sliding as if she was on an ice rink, her already painful knees were hitting the edge of the next step and that fucking guard just continued on his merry way while at the same time stretching the skin of her injured back by pulling on her arm.

Unwillingly, a small, pain filled moan escaped her tightly shut mouth.

Nonetheless, Caroline took notice of the path they took. Every corner, every corridor, every window. She had to situate herself in order to have a plan that would have the slightest chance to work.

Right at that instant, she could have kissed Enzo for bringing her at the prison to visit, even if she had pouted and argued against it for three full days. In the future, the walls and windows weren't in the state they were in right now  _(although it was still just as cold and creepy as it seemed in the 21_ _st_ _century…)_ but still, the layout hadn't changed through the decades that went past. The walls hadn't moved and the passages hadn't disappeared. Caroline could pinpoint approximately where she was in the giant building.

The satisfaction her knowledge brought her helped stand proud even when the other soldiers they passed on their way leered at her, insulted her and mimicked sexual acts they would like to do to her. _(Men were pigs in every age it seemed!)_

Finally, after quite the long trek, and she strongly suspected they didn't take the shortest route for whatever reason, they arrived to a shut door. It was just as bare and heavy as every other one she saw on the way. The only detail that signified the room's importance on it was a small knocker. She guessed there wasn't really any need for that in the rest of the  _prison_ .

The guard that held her since they took her from the common cell knocked on the wood and Caroline took a deep breath, one that hurt her in the state her body was in, but she needed it to ground herself as much as she could before entering the “Wolf's den” (apparently that was the origin for the entire family's obsession with the animals since, you know, they had a cool, rich, powerful ancestor that took it as his nickname… _Caroline rolled her eyes internally_ ).

The sight that greeted her after the guard shoved her through the passage was one eerily similar to the last time she had been alone in a room with Theodore Lockwood.

Him playing “distractedly” with his letter opener, that seemed way too sharp considering it's aimed purpose, his filthy boots on the sturdy wood of his polished and gleaming desk, and his eyes sliding up to her that revealed the true emotions he harbored. What a great showman.

Suddenly the image of Tyler doing almost the same thing in his office superposed itself onto the present one. How he insulted her in a passive way while he had onlookers he felt insecure of. How he always did those little productions, just as his ancestor apparently, whenever something didn't go as he planned or he felt even the slightest bit threatened.

So, when Theodore expected her to cower and instead Caroline threw at him a disdainful smirk Klaus would have been utterly proud of, it wouldn't be enough to say his previous aura of playfulness disappeared and left the place to open scorn and hate. She was fine with that. At least she knew what she was walking into.

“I had hoped your state of being and the time, however brief, spent in the prison's most “visited” cell would have made you realize how to behave in front of people far superior to you. It was my mistake, indeed, to expect of a bug to have a brain.”

Caroline truly, truly couldn't help it, she laughed.

And she was thankful for it, no matter the reasons or consequences of it. It was cathartic. Everything that happened before that had led her to a spiral of pain and sadness hadn't gone away, per se, but, suddenly it seemed a little bit more bearable. And it had been piling up for so long she couldn't quite remember the last time she felt so light.

The brief bout of joy it brought her helped her clear her head. And it made her laugh even more because Lockwood was unaware that by insulting her he only strengthened her and the resolve she had to bring him to his end.

She was so enraptured in what would have looked like a bout of insanity to any onlookers, that she didn't even register him standing up from his chair and quickly coming up to her. Well, she did when he grabbed her arm and almost tore it out of its socket, succeeding in pulling on the wound that sliced her open.

Just as she let out a grunt of pain, he slammed her on the wooden desk. The papers and sparse decorations he harbored on it flew like flies while she trashed around, trying to lessen the strength of his grip on her. She felt panic creep up on her even if she vehemently fought against it.

Her efforts tripled when she felt one of his hands that previously smashed her left hand against the furniture slide down, and once it reached her ankle, went without permission under her garments.

His nails scratched her everywhere, his fingers pressed hard on her tender flesh, so hard it would leave innumerable bruises on her pale skin. He tried to open her legs not only with the hand under her dress but also with one of thighs incessantly pining one of hers down.

Caroline was frantic. She used every little ounce of strength she had left in her mauled body to try to push him off her.

Her hands pushed. Her knees hit flanks. Her boot clad feet kicked. Her head butted. Her teeth bit.

While she was trying to fight him off, wishing that any kind of help would miraculously come to her, she was bombarded with hazy images of Damon raping her after he drugged her at Bonnie's birthday party. How roughly his hands grabbed her body. How his lips and fingertips left her bruised for weeks. How she bled when he shoved himself into her dry, unprepared, unaroused vagina.

She resisted the tears, even if her eyes begged her to release them, not wanting to appear weak in front of such a joke of a man. A coward that couldn't bear the slightest bit of resistance. A weakling pushing his authority and throwing tantrums when it didn't go his way. A wimp taking advantage of her weakened state to take her against her will.

Her anger and rage took hold of her even more, like a powerful wave of divine fury crashing into its impertinent subjects.

She raised herself as much as she could and with her teeth, sharp and strong, she tore off his ear, or at least a significant part of it.

Caroline had never known until then how much blood went through those floppy things attached to their heads. It was like a small geyser of red raining on her.

Lockwood cried out and lost his hold of her hand when his went by reflex to what should have been still attached to him. (How much she wished at that moment she could have separated his dick instead of his ear from his body!)

That brief moment was his downfall.

She grabbed the sharp and thin blade that was his letter opener, the one he had played with only seconds ago really, trying to intimidate her with it. And, with a force she wasn't aware she still had in her, pushed the pointy end into his jugular.

The skin gave easily, she hadn't expected it. She felt how smoothly it slid into the artery, how it even went further, right into one of the bones of his upper spinal cord.

His eyes slid up to hers, shocked. Aghast with the realization a weak woman killed him. That he failed in asserting his dominance over her.

She could see the knowledge it was the end for him creep into his rapidly fading gaze.

A choked gurgle of a mouth filled with blood escaped him, a last and unnecessary protest at the face of fate.

Caroline had never thought of herself before as a bloodthirsty or even cruel person. But at that moment the only thing she could feel was triumph. Her face was split by a victorious smile, one that would be the last thing Theodore Lockwood would ever see. One that would accompany him into the abysses of Death.

His now soulless carcass was still hunched over her, and with the leg that had been trapped under his she pushed him to the ground like the piece of trash he had been in life.

She took a small moment to breathe, and revel in her accomplishment, no matter how vile and heinous one would think it was, she was proud. And grateful. To her mother, the bad-ass woman that taught her basic anatomy even as she was more enraptured by romantic novels, the one that forced her to learn how to grip anything that could help her in order to have maximum effect.

“Thanks, Mom.” her quiet voice addressed her, hoping that in some bizarre way she was able to see her, a small tear of mourning escaping her eye just as a soft small smile reached her lips. Gone too soon but not without an impact.

It was precisely the thoughts of her mother, and the lessons she had taught her, that pulled her back in the situation she was in. Lockwood had sent away the guards, true, but her small window of opportunity would soon close in on her if she didn't get the fuck out of the room quickly.

Quickly, she glanced at the entire room and the corpse that previously inhabited it. She saw a platter of food; she grabbed the bannock and hard cheese and put it in the pocket of her dress while munching on the few greens that were there (she needed the vitamins!) and drank all the wine.

Then, she saw the weapon that saved her life, put it in her boot. She also took the pistol with the belt accompanying it that had previously been hanging on the side of the chair.

Finally, she took the blanket that was thrown haphazardly over the hanging rack, probably there for the cold Highlands nights, and she covered her shoulders with it, tying it on her back after crisscrossing it over her chest.

In another life, another time, Caroline Forbes, however practical she was, would most certainly have been grossed out by the idea of taking a man's, a man  _she_ killed, personal belongings and food, but life in this time and the circumstances she was in, taught her that to survive she couldn't bother herself with such frivolities. So she didn't.

Just as she was about to get out of this cursed room, she saw a flask peeking from one of his red coat's pocket, and impulsively, she took it.

She breathed in and out, remembering the mantra  _(“It's okay, you can do it, you're Caroline fucking Forbes, don't be a wuss!”)_ she used before every exam, every major hurdle in her life, she even used it before entering the morgue to identify her mother's corpse, so this was nothing. She steeled herself and took hold of the door's handle.

_Now, let's get the fuck out._


	3. Reunite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline escaped from the prison, and while she's trying to get as far away as possible she stumbles into someone in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final installment in this little fanfic! I hope you enjoyed reading it and thank you!

She stumbled upon them after quite the perilous hike through the lush greenery of the hills surrounding Fort William. And her weakened state certainly did not help whatsoever.

At first, she thought them to be a mirage. A wishful thought caused by the blood loss and the various recent traumas. An illusion her mind had created in an effort to bring her some warmth and familiarity amidst the damp and cold forest. A way to cope with loneliness.

The sight of Klaus tending to Cailean, one of the youngest Mackenzies that had gone to fight for his heritage and cause, barely fourteen years old, treating his pouring wound in his lower stomach, trying as he could to bandage it and hold it as closed as he could… A conjured image of what she imagined their final instants to have been. Even through the anguish and deep grief, it brought a warmth she had thought would be forever gone from her life to imagine them united and caring for each other even in those kind of settings. A feeling she had resolved herself to never experience again, especially not while she was being held by that sick bastard Lockwood in Fort William.

Then a butterfly whizzed by her head and landed as a whisper on Cailean's shuddering shoulder. Shock, relief, horror, sadness erupted all at once, like a volcano waking up from its slumber. She really took hold of the situation, realized they actually really were there, and the lad really was bleeding out, and even the slightest bit of comfort she had felt at the sight of the survivors crushed down around her.

_No! No! No! Please, no!_

This couldn't be happening! She just found them alive after thinking that everybody lied still on what would be their massive grave. Caroline couldn't bear the thought of having to say goodbye. Again. And with proof of death right before her eyes.

“KLAUS!”

At her shout, he glanced her way with surprise in his eyes. She saw the deep but brief relief and joy at seeing her. She also saw the worry in his eyes creep back almost instantaneously, his gaze going back to Cailean's open flesh with organs and innards peeking out and a red fountain pouring out of him. Saw the despair and unwanted fatality stiffen his posture. But still, he held him, murmured reassuring words she couldn't quite decipher yet.

Caroline had began rushing to them as soon as she realized they weren't a figment of her imagination. Finally, while cursing the physical state she was in for not permitting her to get there faster, she reached their position under a big oak with a bed of radiant moss at its feet.

“Cailean…”

A choked sob tried to get out of her at the image he made.

His young, fit body trying to draw breaths and fighting to live. The beautiful emerald moss that cushioned him clashed violently with the rich blood oozing out of his torn stomach.

She gulped, swallowed back the emotions and tears that wouldn't help whatsoever right now.

“Mis- Mistress F-F-Forbes… P-plea-sure to se-see you.”

His every breath was pure agony and yet she still saw the truth of his words in the pleased glint of his half closed eyes and the slight smile splitting his face.

“Oh Cailean… I'm happy to see you as well.”

He tried to speak again.

“Shhhh… Don't speak, you need to keep your air in your lungs in order to heal, alright?”

She could see the doubt each one of them had in her words, or rather the intrinsic knowledge that they were actually lies. They knew he had no chances of living through this. They were resigned to that fatality. But, she also saw the reassurance her soft tone and words gave him, as if this last sympathetic gesture helped him pass on to better things.

Klaus had remained quiet since she arrived, but she could see the struggle he held in him by the clenching of his jaw and the stiffness of his shoulders. And yet, his hands on Cailean's stomach remained gently firm.

As she sat up further and placed softly the young man's head on her lap she threw a look to him, and then to the wound. He understood the message, understood it's necessity, but clearly didn't like it judging by the deep furrowing of his brows and the contriteness of his eyes. Still, he headed her counsel, and slowly lessened the pressure his hands put on Cailean, until he released completely any hold he had on him.

He took Cailean's blanket itched in his clan's colors, previously covering only his legs, and slowly inched it further. Delicately, he draped it over the struggling chest, covering the wound, preserving his last shred of living dignity.

The sounds of his ragged breath, and wheezing mouth broke the stillness of the forest. But, Cailean deserved more. Deserved to have his short life where he tried to bring joy for all those around him him celebrated. He deserved more than a grim parting. So, Caroline softly hummed the air of a lullaby forgotten long ago, from times both past and not yet realized. Until he made no sound anymore and her tears broke the shadow of her song.

* * *

They buried him as well as they could, right where he died. Klaus and her collected stones to put over his body (she wasn't that useful what with her own wound, but she owed it to Cailean to do her best), moss too, to soften the resting place of a gentle soul.

When they finished covering him, Klaus knelt with sword in hand and point in the earth, and recited what she guessed was a funeral prayer. It was too soft for her to understand, but the words sounded foreign in her ears.

Then, they stood at his feet, silent, in contemplation or maybe prayer.

Caroline wasn't much of a believer, in anything, she was too cynical for that. But, if anybody deserved to be taken in some type of heaven or whatever else that would bring eternal comfort and joy to a deceased, it was him.

She hoped her silent message of hope passed on to any possibly existing entity relevant.

The blonde time traveler couldn't say exactly how much time passed as they stood as silent protective statues. What she knew however, was that when they did walk further in the forest, the grave behind their backs, night had already fallen and with it, the cold.

They traipsed through the darkness of the woods for a long perilous while, Caroline following Klaus silently. It seemed he knew where he was going, at least she hoped he did.

Finally, they reached a small cave, that if one didn't know was there almost couldn't be seen. It was rather perfect considering they were both fugitives. She threw him a questioning gaze with a side of raised eyebrow. But no answer from him.

Silence still prevailed while Klaus started a fire and they mechanically took the outer layers off them. Every motion they made was by reflex or habit. Caroline spreading their garments so they could dry quicker, Klaus going out for more wood. Her taking out the food she snatched from Lockwood, holding out a part for him and him taking it with a nod. Both sitting down next to the fire, backs towards the cave's walls and eyes glancing every few seconds towards the entry. His hand reaching out for hers, and hers gripping it tightly. Never letting it go away. Needed the support and ability to ground herself it gave her.

The lust and affection they always had boiling between them, no matter how reluctant she had been to admit it or face it before, was more like a simmer. One they almost didn't feel, still too wrapped up in everything that happened these last few days, and in the prospect of living in a hollow world deprived of Cailean Mackenzie's brightness and youth.

After a long while, hours surely, without any movements from any of them, Caroline slowly started thinking, dealing with all the events that took place: the men's departure to battle, the loss of it, the deaths, Klaus' presumed one, the altercation in the Castle Leoch, her injuries, the prison cell, the rape, and the attempted one, her kill, her escape, finding them, only to then have Cailean taken away.

Klaus switched the hand that was holding hers, and with the one he just freed, he embraced her with a quiet strength. She hadn't even realized she was crying, but when she felt his arm draped around her shoulders (the pain in her back was there, but she almost could forget it if it meant being right there for however long she could), sobs and cries left her mouth like a cacophony of pain and suffering.

She didn't know how much time Klaus held her while caressing her dirty matted hair while silently crying with her too.

Usually, Caroline Forbes wasn't one to show any weakness, especially not tears in front of another person. However, she refused to feel any ounce of shame for this. Grief and pain left no place for shame anyway.

She needed this to heal, needed its cathartic nature. Needed Klaus' strength and affection.

And, she knew he wouldn't judge her for it, knew that he would understand her, not only because of everything he went through himself and their shared pain, but also because he always did, even when she didn't want him to.

Her sobs quietened, and her breath progressively returned to almost normal (she was still injured and in his arms!).

“Thank you Klaus.”

“Don't thank me love. It is not needed.”

She only hummed in response.

Her thoughts turned to Klaus again, his understanding of her, his trust in her. And she needed that trust. But, for trust to be, truth needed to be too. She knew that too well, had been burned too many times. Therefore, she made a hard, and much awaited, decision.

“Klaus.” her tone was resolute and guarded.

His eyes turned away from the fire to anchor themselves in her pupils while his hand was still deeply ensconced into hers. Caroline took hold of her resolve and braced herself for the conversation to come.

“I am going to tell you something. Something that may sound crazy, and I know that right now after everything that happened you will probably attribute it to shock or something, but it is the truth. As deeply inconceivable as it may seem. So, actually, I'm, uh…, not from here.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“No, Klaus, I'm not talking about Scotland. Obviously! You already know that, everybody does! What I'm trying to say is that…”

“I **know** , sweetheart.”

“Klaus, please let me talk! It's difficult enough without you butting in every few seconds!”

She was frustrated and anxious, and she couldn't interpret the small smile he sent her. He released her from his embrace momentarily and with both of his hands grabbed hers, and turned the rest of his body fully towards her.

“No, sweetheart, it is you that does not understand. I _**know**_ , love.”

She could see him look at her no doubt puzzled face and sighed a little, fondly and with amusement almost.

“Caroline, love, I know you are from a different time.”

“Oh...” he has said it so matter-of-factly that during a short instant she was about to just nod and.

And then, she truly realized what he said, the implication of his words, and for a good moment there, she just wasn't present, she was sitting, numb, unresponsive and with what she guessed was a dumb look on her face.

_Did she just hear him right? He said he knew she was from the future? What the fucking flying fuck was even happening right now?!_

“How the fuck do you know that?! Was I that obvious?! Did I say it while sleeping?! I thought I had gotten myself rid of that unfortunate habit! Fuck! Do you really, I mean, really, think I'm from the future or was it some sort of test?!”

His chuckle made her realize how quirky the situation actually was. And, involuntary, a small grin took hold of her still befuddled face.

“Stop laughing! I'm serious! How long have you known?”

“Sweetheart, I knew it since the moment we found you.” his tone was as soft as she had ever heard him, the kind of tone one would use not to spook a cornered animal. She didn't appreciate it, but, well, she could understand where he was coming from so she just ignored it, save for her raised brow, of course.

“But, how?”

“I know those stones. I have felt them. I know the stories. And, most importantly, I went through them myself.”

His words had the effect of a bomb being dropped. If she had been dumbfounded before when he told her he knew what she was trying to say, she didn't even have the words to describe the extent of her shock right at that time.

She didn't know how long she sat there unresponsive but she guessed it was quite the long wait by the trepidation she could see creep into his previously soft, amused and reassuring expression.

“Wh… What time are you from?”

“I passed through the stones in 1132, four years ago.”

And suddenly, small details that didn't ring right, and things she filed away as him just being foreign to these parts made so much sense. Like the foreign words, and proverbs, the lack of religiousness really uncharacteristic of the time, the different style of fighting, or even the displeased expression he sported while wearing a kilt while they infiltrated Clan Macdougal.

She sat there, looking at him, her face the picture of a blown up mind for an embarrassingly long time. And catatonic state was only broken by his voice distracting her from the fact that: _fuck! He was most probably a fucking Viking judging by the year he went through the stones! So it's not unilateral, it's not just from the future to the past? HE'S FROM THE 12TH CENTURY! Fuck._

“Caroline? Are you alright?”

She took a few moments to ask herself that same question: was she alright? The obvious answer would have been no. After all, hadn't she just had a breakdown (at least it wasn't a panic attack, that would have been awkward) for very good reasons. She was injured, hungry and tired. Plus Klaus just dropped a bomb the size or Uranus on her. But, surprisingly, she felt fine- _ish_. About his revelation at least. Everything else… it will take weeks if not months to feel fine about any of it.

Caroline was curious of course. Everybody would be when someone says they come from the 12th century! Plus, it was in her nature to snoop, research and discover things, hell, she made it her vocation!

But, she had also been drained of any energy by her entire ordeal, her injuries were killing her and she could feel herself slipping away by the second.

Also, she trusted Klaus. Sure, it was mind blowing, but hadn't she went through approximately the same thing? Couldn't she be just more accepting considering that?

“Yes. I'm alright.”

“Don't you have any questions? I struggle to believe that the Caroline Forbes I came to know these last months doesn't have anything to badger me with…” he smirked at her teasingly.

“Oh, don't worry, I have more questions that you can count. And you'll have to answer each one of them. But, right now, I'm exhausted and need to rest. Also, we'll have all the time we want to talk on the road, I can't in good conscience take the only fun thing away from walking miles, and miles, and miles, right?” she winked (since when does she wink?) at him playfully.

Klaus only laughed a little bit, and she was thankful for being able to cause that. He had been tense and strained since they found each other, which was certainly understandable considering he went through a battlefield with thousands of deaths around him, escaped somehow with a young man he used to protect and teach, only to feel him die in his arms. Also, this all happened centuries away from the time he was born. So he had all the reasons in the world to not be happy or relaxed. And, also, it wasn't Klaus' usual personality either, he was an intense guy from the beginning, part of the allure, she guessed.

A pleased small smile etched itself onto her lips, the quiet kind one wasn't even aware of spouting.

She basked in the brief moment of joy they shared, aware that the road awaiting them from then on wouldn't give much occasions to be joyous at all.

After a while, she could feel the fatigue settle itself in her spine, in her eyes and in her mind.

However, before she could just fall into Morpheus' arms, she needed to check her wound and see if it was healing any, hoping that there wouldn't be any sign of infection. And by that, she meant Klaus needed to check it for her, since, you know, she didn't have eyes on the back of her head.

“Klaus, could you please look at my wound, see if it's healing or if there are any problems?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

She turned her back on him and slowly brought down the red stained, previously white fabric of her under dress, revealing the extent of her injury. She heard him gasp a little and saw in the periphery the clenching of his fists.

“Caroline! Why didn't you tell me?! You must have been in agony!”

“Klaus, calm down, we had other things to worry about.”

“That may be true but your health, your life should be your priority, love! Who did this? Tell me! I'll kill them, tear out their throats and stomp on their remains! CAROLINE! Do not laugh, it is no frivolous matter!”

“I was not laughing at you nor because I don't think it's important, I was just laughing because you do not have to worry about it, I already killed both the soldier and Lockwood.” she turned to face him and grinned at him ruthlessly.

For a minute Klaus only stared at her, and she couldn't quite decipher the look he was sending her, some kind of mixture of pride and something else?

However, her thoughts were stopped completely when she felt his calloused fingers take her cheek suddenly and bring her face to his. His lips took hold of hers and she was lost.

Lost in the feeling. Lost in the comfort. Lost in him. Lost in them. Lost in the them they could become in the future.

Never in all her years has she experienced such a thing. Such a kiss. The kind that everybody thinks is a made up dream when they see it in movies. The kind that shifts your view of the world, your beliefs, yourself. The kind that gives the other person your heart even if it shouldn't have been free to give.

Klaus and his lips were an ambrosia she would have never believed to be real.

She felt in her entire body tingles and flashes, lights under her closed eyelids. Her breath was short and irregular. Her hands were pressed of their own volition on his neck and chest. Her throat let out moans and grunts that her head would never have been able to hold back. Her brain was short-circuited with only one thought going round and round in it: Klaus. Klaus. Klaus.

Nothing else mattered at that moment, not the place, not the time, not the circumstances. Only him. And her. Together.

And when that kiss ended she was still under its mercy with her knees weak and trembling heart.

“You're such a magnificent creature, my Caroline. A warrior of her own.”

Had she been able to think clearly, Caroline would have opposed him, especially the “my” part, but the kiss rendered her almost dumb, so only a smile came out. Still, she couldn't resist teasing him even as she reminded him of the task they begun before the kissing part.

“Come on, _warrior_ , take the flask that's sticking out of my dress and clean up my wound. You need me alive if you ever want me to kiss you like that again.”

* * *

They walked for days. Collected herbs and honey so that she could heal. Hunted and caught fish in the fresh rivers of the Highlands.

And during it all they talked without stopping about everything and anything, their pasts, their respective times, their hopes and dreams, things that they wanted in life, what they planned for _them_. Unless, of course, their mouths were otherwise preoccupied.

Together, night and day. Mostly they elaborated a plan. Using both their knowledge from different eras. His, of warfare and politics. Hers, of the future and the events to come. They knew they couldn't change major things, or stop them from happening, but who forbade them to turn it into their advantage?

Their. Hers and his. Together. From now on to forevermore.


End file.
